Whatever it is, it is to be given the totality of yourself, always, the dishes and film and half chewed beans and those molded noodles, leaving leftovers, the painful brambles and burrs on your sleeves, the taste of water after it's been sitting for a day, being consumed by mugginess, the air a hot blanket, the gamey piece of chicken, everything, these things that are seeming nuisances and pains, all deserving your full presence, each a miracle.